Winter
by KillingKathy
Summary: He didn't expect it to happen like this.


He didn't expect it to happen like this.

He didn't know what he had expected, but the only words running in his head were _not this way, this is never what I wanted, not like this. _

He didn't know what background he'd imagined, what chorus had been singing in his head, but he certainly didn't expect it to be this, Toudou crouching down in the middle of the snowy street, staring at him with that kind of blank shock.

"Maki-chan?" Toudou gazes at him in wonder, head tilted at that model 45 angle, and suddenly, Makishima speaks.

"Hello, Jinpachi." His voice is cracked and brittle, quiet against the bitter wind and falling snow; his cracked lips cannot do anything else but quiver.

Toudou's hair is filled with that tell-tale lambent, soft radiance in his eyes and wind-swept cheeks.

And he is scrutinizing Makishima in the exact same way, eyes running up and down his body and hovering on his face for longer than what deemed necessary for a nice, normal reunion.  
><em>How does he look to Toudou?<em>

Does he see the English winter in his hair, memories in his eyes?

Toudou-the lines of his body are more angled and lithe, shoulders and chest filled out more with age, but the teenage beauty is still there in Toudou's face, shimmering with the incandescent youth of what seemed like centuries ago.

But-he wonders why Toudou's eyes don't shine the way they're written in fairytales. They're glimmering, glazed with tears, and suddenly, Toudou is crying.

"Ah-" Makishima takes a halting step forward, almost dropping the black umbrella in his hands when he stops, because really, _what would he do? _

Toudou's face is buried in his palms, own umbrella ignored in the snow. The frost is gathering in his hair, on his damp eyelashes, and Makishima cannot think.

"You were coming back." Toudou's voice quivers. "And you never told me."

Makishima had dismissed the warnings of long distance relationships as a joke, because of course-it was Toudou Jinpachi he was talking about, and nothing was a problem for him.

It had been fine at first. Skype calls every week, texts with messaging apps so that the charges wouldn't be too high-the decline started during exam season, when they were too busy, and both the phones stayed quiet for a whole month. And when the chaos _was _over, when Makishima would pick up his phone, he would see that the last message was a month ago and think twice before sending a message.

Somehow-it had come to Skype calls every month, then two months, then _year_-then stopping, all together.

The familiar surety that he had felt was akin to nothing now, and the silence between them was awkward for the first time, broken only by his hiccups.

It's so ironic, Makishima thinks, because Toudou is carrying an oil paper umbrella, maroon scarf draped around his neck, loose yukata serving as his attire.

Makishima himself, plastic black umbrella, dark scarf and leather trench coat, feels more distant from Toudou than ever.

He's not sure how long they've been standing in the middle of the street, but it's long enough that Toudou starts coughing and sneezing between his tears, and finally, Makishima breaks the silence.

"Do you...want to get somewhere warm?"

Toudou stills, palms still shielding his face from Makishima's view, but slowly nods.

"We can go the inn. My parents aren't there at the moment." He hears the wobble in Toudou's voice, familiar surety gone as he stoops down to pick up his umbrella out of the snow.

But Toudou stripped of his confidence was an alien creature to him-Makishima had never lived in a world where Toudou Jinpachi doubted.

Nevertheless, he follows Toudou down the street, numbly rubbing his hands together and coaxing warmth back in his feet; Toudou walks on ahead, saying nothing. Toudou's yukata looks too thin to provide warmth, umbrella more for show than protection from the cold, feet in the blocky sandals that Makishima has seen around the onsen before. Toudou looks every bit the dutiful heir to his parent's dream.

"Maki-chan, we're here." Toudou doesn't drop the nickname, but it sounds stiff and unfamiliar on his lips now, accompanied by years of disuse and neglect. Makishima ducks his head as Toudou holds the door open for him, stooping as to not hit his head on the low arch.

It's warm inside the onsen, the walls and paintings just as Makishima had remembered it; there's more of Toudou's beautiful calligraphy draped across the inn, and he can hear the faint chatters of guests upstairs and along the hallway.

Toudou leads the way to his room, part of a secluded alcove in the east wing.

"You can leave your umbrella by the door to dry," Toudou says as he shakes the snow off of his own. Makishima mumbles a quick thanks as he folds his, watching the snow melt ineffably quick off the plastic.

"I have some tea brewing, would you like some?"

"Sure." Makishima slowly takes his jacket and scarf off, not sure how to react to the stiffness in the air.

Toudou walks past him and closes the door softly as he walks down the stairs, leaving Makishima alone. He doesn't know what to do, what to say, what to _think_, even. He settles for looking around Toudou's room. It's almost the exact same, save for the colossal amount of trophies stacked on the shelves. He walks closer for a better look, and they're almost all from calligraphy competitions, and not surprisingly, quite a few cycling ones. However, the number of those trophies is almost exactly the same from years ago, and he wonders what happened.

_Had he met a new rival? _Someone better than him, someone who could actually keep Toudou in track?

The door clicks softly as Toudou walks in with a tray, olive-green teapots and teacups balanced precariously between his hands. Makishima rises to help him, but Toudou waves him off as he maneuvers skillfully to the low table in the corner of his room.

Makishima hesitantly walks over, folding his legs and kneeling across from Toudou, who pushed a steaming cup of tea towards him, averting his eyes. "Thanks." The tea is warm, almost scalding to Makishima's hands as he cups it in his numb fingers.

Toudou does the same, and for more than a minute they sit in cold silence, sipping the tea and looking anywhere, everywhere but the other's eyes.

To Makishima, interhigh and races seemed eternities ago, and he wondered if Toudou thought the same.

"So, are you taking over the inn?" Makishima asks, hearing his voice crack on the first few words. Toudou seems startled, fumbling for words. "It...seems that way, yes."

Makishima just nods, taking another sip of tea. Toudou looks out the window behind him, watching the winter outside with eyes almost _sad_.

"I don't really...have any other talents that could be put to use." Toudou shrugs. "So...more than likely, that's what will happen."

Makishima snickers. "No talents? Did I really hear Toudou Jinpachi say that? _Toudou Jinpachi? _Who was the one who kept on saying, that he was blessed thrice?"

"But _that's not use, Maki-chan!_" Toudou finally looks back at him, strings of desperation in his eyes. "I'm not going to model, talking is only for conversation, and there's no way in _hell_ I can cycle professionally."

"Why?"

"I..." Toudou opens his mouth, then shuts it. He looks confused now, more than ever. "After you left..." He starts tracing circles on the table. "I stopped cycling...for awhile."

Makishima has to retain himself from saying, _I know, I've been there. _

"And when I finally continued..." Toudou opens his hands helplessly. "It was no use. I couldn't make it on the college team, and everyone-Kinjou, Arakita, Shinkai-and they were seemed so _effortlessly happy_."

Toudou drops his eyes again to the table, voice barely above a whisper. "And then I thought that...maybe, cycling just wasn't what I was meant to do."

"I...quit too." Makishima starts, almost jolting from the intensity of Toudou's renewed gaze. "I didn't...have time, and the people were...strange." _They weren't you. _

"Well, looks like we're both screwed now, doesn't it." Toudou inclines his head to the side, a sad smile on his face. "But you're probably fine, aren't you, Maki-chan."

Makishima laughs awkwardly, scratching his hair. "I consider myself a fair fashion designer."

"Well, look at you." Toudou's expression is almost bitter. "You're traveling, and successful. What more do you need?"

"I..." Makishima tries to deny the statement, tries to think of something, anything. _I'm not content, not just yet. _"I don't know, Toudou." He sighs. "I've never really wanted anything."

Toudou's face had become a rictus of a grin, looking more strained and unnatural than ever. "Ah. I see."

_He's upset._ "Where's that Toudou that I used to know?" Makishima attempts to joke. "The Jinpachi I knew wouldn't settle for owning an inn."

"No, the Jinpachi you knew would probably turn it into a strip club, or something."

Makishima almost snorts in his tea as Toudou's words sink in, and for a second, they're both laughing, Toudou pounding the table with his fists, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. "And...oh god, Maki-chan it would be your gravure come true! Just imagine all those people who would come...Hakogaku's most beautiful inn, turned strip club!"

Once they stop laughing, the atmosphere is a bit lighter, the tea no longer burning Makishima's tongue as he takes another sip.

"You know, Maki-chan..." Toudou starts. "I really missed you."

"I-I missed you too, Jinpachi."

"What happened, Maki-chan? Why did we stop talking?"

"Distance, I guess." Makishima shrugs, because there really was no other explanation. "It happens to the best of relationships."

"But we were _Makishima Yuusuke _and _Toudou Jinpachi_! What happened to us?"

"Toudou," Makishima starts. "Distance isn't something negligible."

Toudou's eyes flash, the shocks of electric blue shaking Makishima until he felt as if the world never was, never would be, still in his spinning head.

"If we had cared enough, it would have been." Toudou demands his agreement.

"Toudou...you were busy, I was busy, and there was just never enough time."

"Look what's happened to us, Maki-chan." Toudou searches his eyes. "I don't even think I _know _you anymore."

"...You do." Makishima finally reassures, the silence contradicting his statement. "I haven't changed."

"Yes you have." Toudou murmurs. "You've changed so much, Maki-chan."

Makishima laughs nervously, takes another sip of his tea. Toudou's still staring at him, and he feels as if the weight of the world were within his eyes.

"What's happened to us?"

"Nothing's happened." Makishima brusquely states. "It's just been a long time, that's all."

Toudou nods, almost absentmindedly resuming his circles on the table.

His tongue felt like molten lead in his mouth, glued like hardening cement behind the words that he couldn't say.

_I came back. I'm here. I don't ever want to leave, and I love you. _

Silence was settling over them again, a colorless cloud of stone on his shoulders, his arms.

"How have you been?" Toudou leans his head against his shoulders, propping himself up with his arm. The yukata slipping off his collarbone might have been accidental, but Makishima wasn't sure. "Lots of cute girls in England, I'm sure." He grins, and it's almost like Toudou again.

"I...haven't gone out with anyone." Makishima almost mumbles, scratching the back of his head. "Er...what about you, Toudou?"

"I...have gone out with people." Toudou is carefully phrasing his words. "It was...nice."

"Oh."

"But they weren't you, Maki-chan." Toudou's voice is soft, warm. "They could never be."

Makishima freezes, hoping against hope. "What...do you mean?"

Without a word, Toudou braces himself against the table, leans forward, and kisses him.

Toudou's lips are soft, gentle pressure against his as he leans forward more, and now there are fingers in his hair, stroking it, tangling it, and _god, _he feels more content than he's ever been.

"I've missed you, Maki-chan." Toudou mumbles around his mouth. "So much."

"Mmh." is all Makishima can muster as he raises his hands to twine around Toudou's neck, and he wonders if his inscrutable expression is finally gone, melted away by Toudou's hands.

The world is disorientating in his vision, and he cannot breathe. Scribbles of color and blurs of viridian are warping in front of his eyes, the only thing he can hear are Toudou's sighs, warm against his lips, and he cannot help but think _this is what I've wanted. _  
>The world had never seemed beautiful in anything but monochrome until Jinpachi proved it wrong.<p>

And so, he resigns himself to this, because Toudou's hands are warm, the snow outside is cold, _and he doesn't ever want to leave. _

He loved him, and it was pointless to keep running any longer.

Because one day they will both be old, and Makishima doesn't want to imagine a life without him.


End file.
